Harsh Jani: Pause or Play
Pause or Play
Harsh Jani on the instinct that decides whether a moment becomes a photograph or a film.
Editorial portrait · Photovogue · photographed by Harsh Jani
Harsh Jani didn't come to photography through art school. He came to it through chaos. Working in event management, it was the frantic, unscripted energy behind the scenes that first pulled his attention toward visual storytelling, and from there into a practice that now moves fluidly between editorial photography, documentary work, and film. His images have appeared in Photovogue, Nowness, Billboard and his instinct for catching people at their most unguarded, a glance, a hand on a shoulder, a moment of shared laughter, has become something of a signature.
That instinct traces back to a village childhood, where the ordinary rhythms of daily life became his earliest subject, and it still pulls him back regularly to the small town in India where he grew up, documenting the tribal communities and familiar faces he was raised among. Jani works by a simple internal rule: does this moment need to be paused, or played? The answer decides whether it becomes a photograph or a film. Either way, what he's chasing is less a polished image than a felt one, stripped of the layers that usually sit between a viewer and a person's soul.
He now lives and works in Mumbai, a city he describes less as a backdrop than as a relationship, one that watches him grow while he watches it change.
An Indian editorial and documentary photographer, cinematographer, and director based in Mumbai. His work has been featured in Photovogue, Nowness, and Billboard. He is the founding director of Parallel Planet Films.
I started with both photography and filmmaking, and for me they've always been deeply emotion-driven. Before this, I worked in event management, and the chaos behind the scenes was what first drew my attention to visual storytelling. That's a long story in itself.
I've always been drawn to motion and storytelling, but I see things very simply. Whatever I experience, I instinctively ask myself whether it needs to be paused or played. If it needs to be played, it becomes a film. If it needs to be paused, it becomes a photograph that holds a moment in time forever.
Both mediums are equally important to me. The choice depends entirely on the depth of the story and how I want the audience to experience it. Maybe that's why my photographs often feel like stills from a film.
It's a beautiful story from one of my own experiences. Some things feel timeless to me, because whenever I travel or create a body of work, I meet so many strangers and people from different walks of life. It's like two sides of the same coin, some people know where they belong, while others don't yet know what they deserve.
I often visit the small town in India where I was born and raised. Every time I go back, I notice the town stays the same, but it slowly becomes emptier. I find myself documenting the people because I grew up among them. I see the eyes of tribal communities, familiar faces, and I often feel that many of them don't realize what they deserve in life. Their body language is effortless and deeply honest.
Stories like these need to be filmed rather than photographed, because movement, silence, and the passage of time reveal something a single frame sometimes can't.
Mumbai was never part of life's plan. In the beginning, it felt like my heart was beating faster all the time. Slowly, it became a place of comfort. It's a strange relationship, because in a way, Mumbai watches you grow while you're also watching Mumbai change.
I don't think Mumbai has completely shaped the way I see the world, but coming here was always one of my deepest desires. When the soul is curious, the mind keeps pushing until, one day, something magical happens.
What Mumbai has taught me is how to become detached at times. It's a strange city in that sense. I love photographing and filming it because I'm drawn to its vastness and its endless contradictions. It constantly makes you feel one of two things: either you're the hero of your own story, or you're simply running to keep up with life.
I wouldn't say I have a rigid process, because, as I mentioned, I simply respond to what's in front of my eyes and try to add a little drama around it.
If I'm doing a test shoot with someone, I'm fortunate to have a great team around me. We spend time brainstorming the visual language and deciding what style best suits the model, actor, or the person's character.
More often than not, I lean toward a raw approach, because that's what feels closest to my style. A lot of people today are focused on creating polished editorials or beauty shoots and then filming behind-the-scenes footage as bonus content. That's never been my priority.
My process usually begins with a character. It could be inspired by someone from one of my favorite films, or by a person I've encountered in real life. I use those references with real models or actors, and we begin in a very natural, unforced way. The more we work together, the more comfortable everyone becomes, sometimes we gradually add drama, sometimes we strip everything back.
I'm naturally drawn to available light, so even when I'm shooting indoors, I try to create artificial light that still feels natural. Over the years I've experimented with a lot of different styles, but eventually you start removing those layers. What's left is just the person and their soul.
"It constantly makes you feel one of two things: either you're the hero of your own story, or you're simply running to keep up with life."
Harsh Jani, on MumbaiI think it's the innocence of people who are genuinely curious about the world. Those are the people who have shaped the way I see life and, ultimately, the way I create.
The biggest credit goes to my mother. She is the reason the artist you see today exists. Living with love, and loving what you do, is a beautiful way to approach art. She taught me to do things selflessly, without expecting anything in return.
I believe almost everyone has someone in their life who quietly shapes the person they become. For me, that's my mother. Because of her, I've learned that everything can look visually beautiful if you're willing to truly accept and observe it. There are always pros and cons to everything, but embracing both is what drives you to keep living, creating, and growing.
Instead of a particular project, I think it was the environment and the experiences that came because of one.
In 2024, I worked on a commissioned project in Ladakh, India. It was a strange and unforgettable experience: incredible people, breathtaking landscapes, animals, moments of love, and some of the best photographs of my life. It was even more special because we were traveling together like a family.
That journey changed something in me. Since then, I haven't been as concerned with whether I'm a great artist or even a great businessman. I just know this work keeps pushing me toward a leap of faith. I don't know exactly where it's taking me, but that's what makes it exciting.
I simply remove layers. That's what I think makes my photographs stand out.
I pay close attention to how I direct a person's body language, because I believe it psychologically draws the viewer into the image. Beyond that, I often use inexpensive cameras. That's part of my style, because I love the softness and texture they produce. For me, it's never been about expensive equipment. It's always been about what the image makes you feel.
The next thing is always a surprise. Right now, I'm drawn toward producing music, because I feel it can open up a different way of telling stories through visuals, graphics, and art.
What excites me most is discovering where this creative journey can lead beyond visual arts. I'm always curious to see how these ideas can exist in different mediums and become part of life in unexpected ways.
I can say there are people who influence me, but some legendary filmmakers and storytellers have definitely inspired me.
For me, it's not really about the people themselves. It's about the body of work they leave behind and the worlds they imagine. Filmmakers like Stanley Kubrick, Guillermo del Toro, Terrence Malick, and cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki have inspired me deeply.
Among contemporary voices, I also look up to Julia Ducournau, Luna Carmoon, Mira Nair, Ronny Sen, Raghu Rai, Silvana Trevale, and Imtiaz Ali. Their work reminds me that every artist has a unique way of seeing the world, and that's what continues to inspire me.
Leila Antakly is an independent cultural interviewer, editor, and founder of Antakly Projects, the platform she launched in New York in 2003 as Ninu Nina. For more than two decades, she has interviewed artists, musicians, photographers, designers, and creative thinkers across art, music, fashion, photography, film, and contemporary culture.
Her interviews are driven by curiosity, research, and direct conversation rather than celebrity, trend, or algorithm. Antakly looks for the people, ideas, and creative practices shaping culture, with particular attention to artists who deserve a deeper conversation beyond the usual press cycle.
